Union
by ReceiverOfWisdom302
Summary: War has always united humanity, just as well as it has always torn it apart. Lives are either spent or wasted. If you don't know about Halo, don't shy away, a lot is explained throughout this and the characters are likely just as clueless.
1. Debrief

Years of military training had them saluting smartly, fluidly throughout the crowd as soon as the first individual gave indication that they had laid eyes on her.

She approached the podium with a quick gait, appropriate for the stern concentration that washed over the bunch, buckling down any stray jittered nerves with a paralyzing appreciation for the sheer air of authority that she carried with her.

Fifteen reasonably preserved Spartans stood before her unwavering, hailing to the unnamed inspection of each and every standing body at her service.

Having just arrived from hovering over an indignant ODST platoon, Kuvira could not have been more pleased with the amount of respect and decency she was given upon arrival.

As she swept her gaze over the lot for the umpteenth time, not even as little as a soldier mouthing words to another crossed her vision.

Disciplined, faithful, deadly.

As far as those above her command were concerned; hers. For the time being.

It was enthralling, daresay breathtaking, to have such specimens under her hand. For all the tales of grandeur that caressed her attention, fifteen (supposedly from the second augmented company) of these super-soldiers was nearly too good to be true.

She yearned to see them all in action.

When Kuvira gave the slightest perceptible nod of her head, dismissing their attentive stances, each one of them sat down, hardly missing a beat. A slighter chill surrendered along her spine.

After a few stagnant moments, a smaller podium-like stand a foot away from her flickered to life.

A holographic being blipped before their eyes and stood along the light-rimmed circular top of the cylinder capsule. Proud and yet reserved, the AI sported the form of a female huntswoman clad in furs. Supposedly Nordic language creased along what leather armour was visible in her chosen form, and she seemed at ease, hands catching their place at her hips while shimmering red and wild hair was attemptedly tamed into two joining braids that bonded down her back. Her attention, unlike the rest of the room's, seemed focus on some dismal corner as opposed to Kuvira herself.

"In the year 2525 CE," Kuvira began, "Humanity made its first contact with the Covenant. Soldiers, not so far different from the lot of you, were tested in combat against the new threat."

She allowed the weight of the statement to settle out long enough that the AI's stare had finally receded from the far corner of the room. All attention had finally been earned.

"The gifts I offer now are aligned with redemption towards this threat and the countless lives _wasted_ within the valiant efforts of Preston Cole. Yes, _wasted_, not _spent_ for the righteous betterment of our pious efforts. Your augmentation has fixed the natural flaws of your bodies, and we will soon forget the shame of our defeats."

The eyes of her audience grew intent. Kuvira grasped another opportune stall, pondering over the most appropriate courses to take her speech towards. Her company, after all, did not respond like the swain over-influenced and buzzing heads of civilians. Every word that would leave her lips was grappled and fed into intelligently working minds.

Tasted, debated.

What influence she gave them then would stand with her for the time that they served. Respect was commanded, but lawful opinions and willingness would be another ordeal to conquer.

"Only a diminutive number of you will be staying with me aboard this vessel. The rest of you will be spread thin throughout the UNSC. While the enemy overwhelms us with their numbers, I assure you, each one of you is worth a hundred of our own. The Insurrectionist colonies are falling as a new era of war rises, and each one of you is being called upon as a beacon for humanity."

Raising her arm, Kuvira leveled it above the podium where the smaller radiant being stood, a silent signal of revelation. The AI nodded wordlessly, and the various lights about the room darkened.

At a black circular center a few steps down from the podiums where the two stood, a reflective hologram of an orbital planet was produced.

"Reach," Kuvira introduced, observing with another sweep as the minds of those in her charge were collectively churning with recognition. She placed her hands behind her back, and stood a little more rigidly with what she was about to further present. She was almost startled knocking against the braid down her own back, forgetting that she had not taken it upon herself to more formally put her hair up. It created a brief charge of wariness over how she held up within the eyes of those below her.

Unkempt, rookie, misguided even?

Appearance was not handled lightly. Yet as if she held no reservations about herself in the first place, she continued with her refined tone.

"From here on, this briefing is an eyes-only classification for those who will remain beneath my personal charge. I request that the rest of you step out from the room. Whether or not you will return for an alternative briefing has been undecided. You will wait out into the service hall to be redirected elsewhere. Some of you will even be transferred by tomorrow."

The air of professionalism about the Spartans was jeopardized.

The statement gained reactions of understandable disfavour. Every one of them had grown together, survived together, and worked together since their earliest days, and Kuvira was the one placed into the heavy responsibility of telling them all that they were about to be torn apart.

A hand towards the back was raised. With relative patience, Kuvira gestured to the individual, who stood up and spoke clearly.

"We're a squad as a whole," the female had started, keeping any indignant undertone in careful check. "We've functioned with a high success rate as we are now. We don't work together like other marines. We're _closer_ – there has to be something to that for –."

Kuvira cut her off sternly, as if interrupting a protesting child over a small matter, and reigning her reasoning as supreme under all circumstance. Which, by all means, it was. "Tomorrow at o' five hundred, pelican drop ships will board. I will have a list with your names printed and posted in the following locations –."

"We can section off for certain missions. Petty Officer –."

"_Stand down_."

A more gentle tone pervaded the thickening atmosphere of the room. Heads turned to be greeted by a graying female, regal but kind-sighted. In spite of catering to the armour on her body, her hair remained untainted by the oppression of a helmet.

Kuvira diverted herself into attention. "Major General Suyin is present."

When recognition flowed throughout the group, all stood and saluted at attention, until Suyin eased them down, and they were seated once more.

Behind her, another soldier entered in standard apparel; blue eyes optimistic and brown hair lengthy, arranged in two parting sides along her face and a high pony tail. It made her stand out from the rest harshly.

"Sorry for the unceremonious intrusion," Suyin amended, approaching the podium, and relieving Kuvira of her salute, tugging her away from the seeking eyes of the audience for quick words. "We have another that just boarded in from the last vessel. She's replacing one of your charges, Jason-045. He's going to be transferred with the sub-Beta company on the second pelican out of here."

"Is there any particular reason for this, or is it a standard switch?"

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. Some ONI spook came in and started handing out new directives sheets to Lin and her company as well. I know every one of them is uncomfortable being separated out, and as amazing as it would be to hold them all here under our directives, our hands are tied at best."

Kuvira nodded thoughtfully at this, and returned to the stand, switching a tone for something akin to compassion instead of boiling impatience for the reluctance of the super-soldiers before her in order to regain charge.

"I understand your apprehension over the idea of being separated. I've just been informed that there is nothing I can do about the ordeal, and I'm _sorry_ for that. The best you can do at this point is make-do until things become clearer for us all. Orders are orders, and your job is to follow them. If there are no further questions on the situation, I need you all to collectively file out into the hall, except for SPARTAN-five-five-seven, three-four-eight, and four-four-one."

With the dismissal, all stood and proceeded to evacuate, excerpt from the three named. Kuvira motioned them closer to the hologram of Reach, and scrutinized the trio, who stood boldly, and exchanged brief looks upon one another.

One had a rounder nose, and a puppy-doggish demeanor. He might have been intimidating were in not for that factor. The one beside him, however, was similar, but a bit more thinned out and sporting more severe eyebrows. Kuvira checked the list for last names, all of which were redacted. It suddenly seemed expected. Requesting sibling information only seemed out of place for the time being.

She backtracked her attention to the female on the end of the other two, who seemed to lack the disciplined attention of a soldier, let alone a Spartan. The female's eyes roamed around endlessly, like a child who was just introduced to the program and was being given an initial lesson from Doctor Catherine Halsey's Déjà with a complementary side of snacks. There was appreciable wonder when her stare finally rested on Kuvira.

She tried not to let distaste shine through, and instead, prompted a question once the doors to the room were sealed, and Suyin backed off to the side, giving her space for her assignment.

"Do you remember which system Reach resides within?"

"Epsilon Eridani," the thinned male responded.

Kuvira made a mental note to begin addressing them properly; Mako-441.

"Within the inner colonies," the female, Korra-557, added. "Right?"

"Yes." Another wave of her hand, and the AI zoomed in on the atmosphere around the spectacular planet. "It's the UNSC's powerhouse. Twenty-seven hours in a day, and three-hundred and ninety days within a year. The facility that it houses is, by all means, your birthplace. Before the outbreak of the Human-Covenant war, this site was also prime for terrorist bombing from Insurrectionists. Its sister planet, Broker, has been a prime recent target for both the remaining, squandering Insurrectionist forces, and smaller Covenant artillery ships."

She rested her hands on the platform as the image of Reach fizzled away, replaced by the smaller and more ice-dominated form of Broker.

"This information is, again, eyes-only classification. An underground operation is being settled to retake this smaller outer-colony planet. No military housing facilities have been established here, and the population is almost entirely civilian, which gives the UNSC reason to believe that the Covenant certainly has alternative motivations for hovering around its atmosphere. Whether or not they have passed through into landing has not yet been confirmed."

Korra shifted, and furrowed a brow. Bolin-348 seemed entirely intent and focused on the rotating hologram.

Sparing a moment to clear her throat, all three pairs of eyes were fixed on her once more. It was appeasing.

"Too many of our colonies have been jeopardized. Based on my understanding, Spartan forces will be spread throughout various colonies in an attempt to even weakened points within the planetary systems. Whatever the Covenant is looking for – we're going to make sure that they do not get their hands on it. It's insulting enough that members of the human race, the Insurrectionists, are _bartering_ with them on such severe borders." The last point was pressed with more emotion than she intended.

The AI on the smaller podium shot her a look that was a clear warning she was treading on unauthorized data for the ears of her charge, so she altered her course, swiping stray strands of hair back from her face.

"When the rest of the group of Spartans is evacuated from this vessel, our course will be set for Broker, and you will be briefed. Stealth carriers have already penetrated the planet's atmosphere to establish a temporary base, and a majority of your tasks will be fed from Command through radio." Suyin once again approached the podium, and established a hand on Kuvira's shoulder, effortlessly relieving her of the duty to brief while offering the soldiers before them a smile. She could sympathize with all of the sudden information being gifted.

Kuvira dutifully stepped down, taking the documents that Suyin passed to her behind her back.

**CLASSIFIED** read across the folder in dark messy printing. Her palms began to sweat just handling the papers when it became known that the documents were ONI issued, even if the word "classified" was used a bit too freely when it came to their organization. Her gloves thankfully preserved their untainted condition, and the bundled was tucked beneath her arm before she gave a smart salute, and excused herself out the back door.

"Alva, please close the hologram. Open navigation ports, check the docking station, and tell the mess hall to begin preparation for a late dinner." Suyin posed leniently, laying her arms on the podium as she leaned against it.

"Consider it done." The AI regarded her kindly, and blipped off of her own podium, disappearing to complete the assigned tasks as listed.

"Permission for free-speech granted, but not lenient. If you have any questions, now is the time."

Bolin shot his hand up, with Korra quickly in tow.

Suyin jabbed a finger in his direction respectively, awarding the male for his reflex.

"Are all three of us going to the planet? Do we have other reinforcements? Are the other Spartans going to other planets? Are we –."

Her expression dimmed slightly, and Suyin was quick to cut him off, holding true to lackery-lenient speech. "Yes, you will be working as a joint unit, reinforcements are questionable at this point, and that information cannot be released at this moment in time, I suggest avoiding questions similar to it. Korra?"

"I think – he kind of covered what I had in mind, for the most part. I'm not really sure what to ask. We're departing tomorrow?"

"The rest of the Spartans are boarding the Pelicans tomorrow, but we're already close enough to the system that we can slip-space and be there within a few days' time."

After a short pause with no further prompting, Suyin arched a brow, and looked pointedly at Mako, who twisted his expression for a moment, and folded his arms behind his back.

"What part about this is eyes-only? We're the ones going on it, and we're receiving minimal intel. Or the wrong questions are being asked."

"The fact you are going on it is eyes-only classification. We might have a few suspected leaks throughout the lower quadrants that are freeing information to the Insurrectionist rebels. Since each separate mission is crucial to the larger piece, we want to keep as few mishaps as possible. I'm allowing you to ask questions to put rest to an over-worked mind. You've been fed a lot all throughout today. You'll be filled in on the more appropriate details when we hit the orbital drop point of the planet."

Her explanation seemed to satisfy the trio, who exchanged reasoned glances once more, before repairing their posture.

"If that's all for now, then you're dismissed to the mess hall. When the bell sounds at twenty-hundred, check in at the brig. Kuvira will be there to assign you to a bunker and supply you, as well as perform an armoury check. Maybe get you some busy work."

They saluted with no amount of untrained hesitance, and turned to exit towards the door.

Suyin could practically hear the gears in their heads struggling to pull through the sudden drop of events as they padded off to fulfill given duties, no doubt favoured amongst them.

Superbly honed abilities could be set to iron testing in the actual field.

Success, however, was set to trial and error.


	2. Gaining Grounds

"They just plucked you right up?"

"No one was really stopping them. I mean, not adamantly, anyway. A doctor was explaining why they wanted me for the program specifically, since no one else around the area was being selected at all. They mentioned something about it being pertinent that I be isolated as early as possible, and how they still needed to evaluate me on a few things before it was even going to be solid. It was beyond confusing, and at first my parents didn't even agree, but the doctor pulled them in for conversation that I couldn't make out and that was that for me."

"It must've been – I don't know, difficult?" Bolin worried through his choice in words through a mouthful of half salad, and half some kind of meat he wasn't too concerned about identifying. He had even reached over to jab his plastic spork into Mako's slab of meat who, easily enough, seemed to allow the advance on the only meal he had all day.

A few green leaves that had clear origins had to be better than cramming the mystery flesh into his mouth.

Bolin tried beforehand in vain to convince him that it tasted far better than their sense of smell would dare convey. But he wasn't having any of the mediocre ushering.

As if Bolin minded.

Korra was stirring the plastic throughout the mess of potatoes. What had once been whole was thoroughly mashed and spread over a portion of the tray mindlessly. Her healthy appetite failed her for the evening.

"I guess it was difficult. There's a better term for it somewhere. But I was just – so _young_. It's hard to remember what they sounded like now. When they took me up on that dropship, another one of the doctors looked a lot like my mom. I kind of came to associate the woman with her, so my mom's face is a bit more memorable than my father's. They're just kind of fading, and I'm not hugely impacted by it. Not sure if I _should_ be or not." She ended up rolling her shoulders in an uncomfortable shrug, stabbing instead of just churning the meal about.

"I was told I would see them again. That hasn't exactly happened throughout the approaching decade. They stopped contacting me, too."

"I thought every single one of the Spartans here were orphans," Mako interjected, furrowing his brows in the process. Finished with his meal, he was leaning back in his seat, breaking from inspecting the side of his boot to make eye contact with their once-familiar squad mate. Years of separation had them fumbling to catch up on _a lot_.

Fifteen minutes into the extended break of the mess hall, and Bolin was the primary source of conversation overall; a celebratory gesture towards their new status as a unit, and their reunion.

The two couldn't believe how much Korra had progressed and flourished since their first encounter at the initialization facility only a stray planetary system over from their position.

Korra propped open her mouth, expression foreshadowing a bitter remark, when a hum over the intercom interrupted her, blaring into Kuvira's quickly familiar tone. The no-nonsense edge held the room silent.

"Your dinner has been cut short by unforeseen events. All Spartan personnel report to the floor beneath the bridge immediately."

Someone keyed the intercom to confirm that the order was received, and people began filing appropriately to scrap what they had not been able to get to; which was not much.

Food rarely went unappreciated, unless one happened to become emotionally upset by the circumstances of their adoption into a military program, or disgusted by the vague contents of slimy meat.

\- - -

The tension in the room was suffocating, condensing.

Korra tugged at the hem of her tanktop, and shifted restlessly on both feet.

Bolin made a quick and discreet joke about the engineers in the hull adjusting the gravitational weight of the ship's solo-orbitals in order to place emphasis on the "gravity of the situation".

As unsociable and inhuman as the Spartans were known to be, the joke offered was found to be incredibly amusing to several of the room's occupants.

When the service doors to the elevator parted, expressions were immediately orderly, and the rows of soldiers saluted to Kuvira, whose attention was primarily focused on a clip board held in her hands.

No one awarded themselves the justification to relax from the salute until Kuvira returned the gesture, and moved to the front of the room, gracing the door they entered in with her presence by standing in front of it.

Her eyes flowed down the board as she spoke, notably urgent but efficient.

Korra had become quick to admire her withstanding ability for addressing people with formal speech in the short time period she had been on the vessel.

Looking to Kuvira with unwavering attention, the glance that was thrown in the youth's direction was hard to miss, and yet Korra found herself fumbling under the severity of those abyss-driven eyes.

There was little wonder why so many bent beneath her charge, even without an outstanding rank.

"Our slipspace coordinates have been compromised by a Covenant vessel _within_ FLEETCOM Sector One. Last visual report was not too far from Tantalus."

The brunette caught her sliding stare from appropriate attention, onto to how the leader's lips moved about in conveying the information.

She took a concerning breath, and redirected her frivolous attention.

"As most of you are aware, this is only a little beyond ten and a half light years from Earth's solar system, and far less so from Reach. Under the exception of Cole Protocol, our position is currently deemed too close to our core world relative locations, and we are authorized to temporarily postpone the exclusion of Spartan forces from this facility and beyond this system."

Kuvira earned herself some slight smiles from various soldiers privately celebrating the postpone of their separation. The primal duty of salvation in the face of a real Covenant threat allowed the atmosphere to retain its heavy influence.

Kuvira stopped roaming her gaze along the clip board, and settled it in one hand, clasping them loosely behind her back as she shifted her weight onto one foot.

Perceptive as the super-soldiers were, many identified the action with thinning patience and a worried mind.

Korra tried to find the wall across from her more dignifying and interesting to _stare_ at. The buzz-cut female who stood in front of said wall only quirked a brow at her, being mistaken for an object of attention as well.

So she traced her eyes along the reflective metal of Kuvira's shoulder pad instead. Effort was placed into recalling the exact scripted order of the Cole Protocol, aside from the generality of being an absolute resort to Humanity's last standing home planet in the face of annihilation at the hands of an advanced race.

The era was progressing so nicely.

When Kuvira stalled, as she often seemed to do throughout her briefing in that particular day, concentrated on the space directly in front of herself, an individual down the line raised a hand to recall her attention. He was given clearance.

"How are we _compromised_? Is the ship trailing us?"

"We don't know yet. There is no visual confirmation, aside from a blip signal in our previous stream. Currently, your departure is still scheduled for later tomorrow or even the next twenty-four hour period, but you will be separating out into two groups instead of the previous assortments, excerpt from the three listed as prime occupants. Admiral Roland requests a certain number of you to be transferred to Tantalus. As soon as this is completed, and we lose the vessel plausibly tracking us, _this_ vessel's path is clear for destination. The lower rankings aboard are not privy to this information. If you share any of this at all, I will have no choice but to report you to a Special Forces branch official."

The statement was ended with a few direct and pointed looks, getting the message across strongly where discretion was needed.

Korra thought, with a smile, that the Lieutenant looked twice at Bolin.

A door down a perpendicular hall opened, and a disheveled Crewman stepped in, frantically looking down the row, and then up it before spotting Kuvira, and rushing towards her, speaking with just as much urgency as his wild eyes offered.

"Lieutenant, they've spotted her heat signature again, a few hundred kilometers from the gas giant. It's advancing."

"Get everyone ready in case we're dogged. Spartans, uniform."

The soldiers buckled into action as immediately as the order was processed, wasting no time moving down the line into the preparation hangar.

Kuvira leaned for the nearest of the trio beneath her charge, ending up with a tight but brief purchase on Korra's forearm. In as much urgency as the rest of the room moved about in, she was tugging the Spartan with surprising brawn towards the Captain's Bridge.

The youthful brunette's brows threatened to hit her hairline. She was a _Spartan_. She could lift three times her extended body weight with minimized effort. Another normal human soldier could throw their whole weight against her, and she would hardly budge.

After her augmentation, she had mistakenly killed an officer who was unfortunate enough to be ordered to spar with her new, uncoordinated abilities.

But there Kuvira was, dragging her along, barking something about the three needing to follow her.

As if realizing her show in commandeering strength, Kuvira snapped her hand away moments after adjusting Korra's walking path, and smoothed her trajectory as she slid past the entrance door to the stairs that led to the Bridge.

Mako and Bolin were both so fiercely on her trail that the shock had to deal with being short lived.

Kuvira punched in a code that parted the doors, and upon stepping out, Korra became awash with contemporary bouts of discomposure and bewilderment.

Every single wall had a screen and one or two occupants that were fiercely working with some sort of coding. The individuals to the left, particularly, were working with a type of more simple calculus. Or, it could have been complex algebra. Korra made a face at being ushered forward by the side of Mako's intrusive foot.

A broader screen stood just past the silver railing that ringed the circular platform of the bridge that the three were led to. It showed stars, a dismal gas giant, and a smaller square percentage specified the fusion reactor and engine status.

So much to take in all at once, certainly for a first time seeing the array in the middle of a potential crisis.

The three saluted the Captain, who was so busy in discussion with Suyin, that he hardly seemed to give fair recognition to their arrival.

Kuvira was not kind or attentive enough to dismiss them immediately from the action, and so they stood at attention for several minutes before the Captain turned in their general direction to address Kuvira, and then, with concentration strained upon a multitude of different things, vaguely dismiss the trio's integrated posture.

Aside from the lowered voices of Suyin and Captain Bataar, Korra could make out the primary engines of the _Zaofu_ sputtering until they slowed down dramatically. Inertia kept them moving forward towards whatever initial direction they had planned for.

"Arm the MAC capacitors, but _do not_ prep them to fire yet." Suyin ordered, nodding Kuvira towards her.

"Permission to speak?" Korra ventured, easing herself up the walkway a bit further.

"Denied."

Well fine then.

She went sour as Suyin fed her Lieutenant with orders for navigation and stealth lines for escaping the heat signature that was advancing on them.

Beside her, Mako and Bolin seemed wholly unable to keep still, within reason.

They were trained to _act_ under pressured circumstances of engagement, not stand there and take notes on the interactions between commissioned officers.

Kuvira seemed just as uncomfortable and shifty, however, in spite of the fact she was being given constructive things to do about the situation at hand.

Wasn't she ground-force, like Suyin?

Korra could sympathize with her in that. It didn't matter how many layers of Titanium-A she was behind, or how far away from Covenant cruisers she was. Up in space was the bottom-line least safe place the female believed she would find herself. Powerful feet on the ground and forces at her back were something she would not trade for all of the smudgy nebulas and endless dark matter in the known universe.

Even water could be fought against, like that on her icy home planet. Its heavy embrace was both condemning and uplifting.

What was she supposed to do with vast nothingness?

Her roaming line of sight promptly became focused on a discreet motioning, and she came to awareness that Kuvira was beckoning with a single quirked finger at her – oh, at all three of them – and they responded in similar segments of awareness by surging forward, eager with what they could do to aid.

"I need you three to run some quick calculations on the coordinates as they appear on the screen. Our "dumb" AI can only run so many figures on the ship. Think of this as a standard evaluation for your potential positions."

Some particular weight was settled on the last two words, causing Korra to press her lips into a line.

Korra was terrible at math. Terrible in the aspect that advanced organic chemistry instructions during her pre-augmentation days with an AI instructor made her want to leap out the window and be put through another treetop obstacle course in a hail storm.

The looks she got from the other two did not suggest that they were anything akin to prodigy either.

So in the least, they offered Kuvira their understanding, and commenced on highly collaborative figuring and re-checking one another's results.

"We've got visual confirmation," one of the second-lieutenants claimed.

Kuvira approached them, and extended the blipmap they were stationed at, tapping on the established location amongst various stars where its dark outline had been spotted.

"Dim the lights. I want a positive classification on it immediately," Suyin approached from behind Kuvira as the latter began zooming in and brushing up clearance, narrowing her eyes to pick out the details of the ship.

Korra dropped from her calculations, making the discreet effort of leaning forward to get a better look at the display.

Across from her, she noticed Bolin's eyes light up the moment he glanced back in her direction from his own gawking of the screen.

Two hands propped themselves down on the sheets that held their calculations, and Korra jerked her head to the side quickly enough to cause a twinge in her neck.

Beside her, a female whose first name read as "Opal" on her tag offered her a charmingly friendly smile, confiscating the pen from Korra's hand while nudging her off with a shoulder.

"Go check it out, I have this for you." 


	3. Gradual Loss

"It's a Heavy Corvette."

"Not a Stealth?"

"It's an SDV-Class. If it were a Stealth Corvette, I don't think we would be registering it until it would be too late."

Kuvira had meant the remark as more of a joke, not intentionally snide.

But when Su threw her a slightly dirty look that suggested she was under no amount of proper mood for any light-heartedness, the Lieutenant's gaze stooped to the floor for a moment with what Korra believed to be shouldered hurt or regret, and she stumbled her way back into more favourable ground as quickly as she could manage by reaching up and tracing her finger along the visible purple glimmer of the alien ship's hull on the see-through hologram screen.

It looked more like an insect carapace than actual metallic armour to Korra, who was standing back respectfully, but remaining wholly focused on the vague image that sense a creeping tingle of uncertainty up her spine. She had no seasoned idea how Kuvira identified the parts of it so fluidly.

"It has three bulbous sections here, and this hull probably houses the plasma. There's also no reflective shield in these models."

"So if we decide to hit it," Su surmised, folding her arms and throwing a glance to the Captain. "Then we'll actually have a chance at doing damage, instead of having things just pepper it uselessly."

"Their heavy plasma cannons and pulse lasers would cause explosive decompression on impact." Bataar was pacing on the bridge, looking over blueprints to their construct to reason out an offensive perimeter while repetitively adjusting his glasses. "If they hit towards the reactor, it would catch fire, and we would need to vent the atmosphere. That puts too many lives at risk for no reason at the moment."

"We won't openly engage them then, but we _need_ to lose them." Suyin paced back in Bataar's direction, looking over the paper documents he was concerning himself with.

"They're usually sent in advance of larger fleets, aren't they?" Opal had spoken up unhindered. Not many would get away with doing so under the circumstances. Being fortunate enough to have a mother at the Brigadier General rank _and_ a father as Captain within the room helped out with influence. "Shouldn't we be sending out a distress beacon?"

"No one would pick it up in time if we chose to simply let inertia carry us along in favour of the _plausible_ idea that without the engines, the ship cannot follow us as easily," Suyin claimed, so heavy in thought she sounded borderline hostile over the idea. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to put stress on their own ship's gravity wells for slipspace, especially any of the smaller dropships, which would be the only ones able to answer the beacon promptly. Even so, it would take them a while to get on approximate location. We're a heavy enough cruiser to be on our own out here to begin with."

Bataar shrugged, and closed the data table on his cooling engines. "Speaking as if anyone could have expected Covenant out _here_. The fact it's a lone vessel – well, that's unsettling to say the least."

A weighted silence strained on the fabric of conversation shot back and forth. Those who did not bother with pertinent commands, such as keeping the major systems running, maintained their attention on the Captain.

Instead of dealing a finalized series of commands, he turned to Suyin.

"What do you want to do?"

"We don't have the _time_ to make a slip into Shaw-Fujikawa space if the Spartans are being transferred tomorrow. A short jump could take up to a month," Kuvira offered. She had stepped into a more personal habit of worrying the edge of her lip with her teeth. It was barely noticeable, and she only stopped when she caught Korra staring her down cumbersomely over it. "_And_, the Cole Protocol states that we need to activate a selective purge on any data about our planetary networks. If were indeed to retreat into slipstream, our vectors would need to be at random, severely capping our time span to get these Spartans mobile."

"Bataar Jr.," the Captain addressed, "get on and start collecting the files for database purging. If the ship gets any closer than twenty percent of what it's already at, delete the files and activate the system's drowning."

Su debated the resorts briefly, as if she had already churned, tasted, and charged the idea. She spoke with clear authority, rising up from where she had settled a hand on the table to still her incessant pacing. Looking to Opal, and then swiping her gaze over the rest of the attentive crew, she finalized her wishes.

"Head for the gravity well of the nearest planet that is not strictly civilian-occupied. We're going to lose them there. If all else fails, then we can try the beacon. I am _not_ allowing this ship to be captured or sliced open for their prying hands."

"Hold on –."

Kuvira broadened the screen, eyes intent and searching.

Suyin was quick to come up behind her, attempting to nudge the curious and resilient darker-skinned Spartan to the side so she could catch a clear visual.

"I think it's changing its course now. The hull there is broadening – it's turning on its side."

"Well, we know for certain that it noticed us then. Why it isn't coming after us is beyond me. Start writing down a report of what it's doing, and relay important information over the comm. I believe we should _straighten_ our path back to our original direction. Forfeit the planet for now." Su shared a look with the Captain, who in turn, after an almost telepathic conversation shown by mere looks between them, ordered that the engines be turned back on at forty percent power to get them moving.

The dismal hum came back to encroach upon any broken silence between orders. The immediate jump into forty percent of the engines caused enough of a jolt that those standing were compromised if they did not brace in their positions.

Previously dimmed lights flickered to life, and the ship's systems were being re-checked by Second Lieutenants and Crewmen as necessary.

"Let's keep them in our side view, don't let our backs fall entirely on them. You three –." Kuvira's eyes settled on the space Opal occupied where Korra was in turn missing.

Bolin was looking _pointedly_ in the opposing direction that Mako's quick glance and slight pursing of lips suggested.

A roaming peer of brevity, and Spartan-557's location was revealed.

The brunette stood slightly bent over, knee braced into the chair someone abandoned while her hands and face were pressed into an open circular ported window near the east of the ship.

Kuvira mused with some amount of imagination, that the irregularly muscled and intimidating _Spartan_ looked more akin to a child squishing themselves up against a tank at an aquarium.

Hadn't she seen enough endless space in her lifetime?

When the Lieutenant approached the soldier, and rapped knuckles against her forearm, the female of accusation shot away from the glass, eyebrows knit with not astonishment, or awe, but flexed worry. The reaction stopped Kuvira from admonishing her on shirking a previous direct order, regardless to circumstance. Instead, she was leaning to catch an eye for what had disarmed the Spartan's mentality with _what do you see?_ stalled on her tongue.

"It's slip-jumping," she heard Korra murmur, as a bright outer ring of circulating energy began tearing open the bundle of seven dimensions around the penetrating nose of the lengthy Covenant vessel an inconsiderable distance from their own vessel. The gaping maw of intertwined spacial dimensions offered the mass transit from the scene, into the void beyond.

Kuvira responded by whirling fast on her heel and alerting the Bei Fong Captain in urgency of the development in the Covenant's new and sudden course.

The shutter windows of the navigation were opened to get a better, more direct visual than what the hologram seemed to be offering them.

Aside from the dismal smudges and prickles of stars and a bluish nebula, the bright white light of the slipspace rim that circled the void that the Covenant vessel was introducing itself to was the most unmistakable force of energy to greet their eyes.

Holograms failed to justify the intensity of the light that reflected off of the dismal threat of the alien ship in such a grotesquely beautiful manner.

The appreciation of the beauty, in itself, was perhaps a soft betrayal to the collectively losing struggle of humanity. Yet everyone within the room stood in appraisal as bluish green lines danced along the form of the mauve ship in its descent.

The anti-climactic disappearance of the vessel that once held everyone on the edge of their seat over their fate in deep space left the soldiers with bated breath and a sheen on the surface of their visible skin.

Bataar slouched for a moment against the side of a console, and then sat down in a seat to capture his bearings. The weight of terror at sighting such a decimating ship near as close a proximity as it had been at only reigned stronger in the passing of the moment.

In the midst of action, the experienced learned to bravely bolt down the more primal urges of their trepidation.

With the threat passing so unexpectedly, the whole room spared time for a more proper breath.

Suyin began checking and re-checking the camera array that once showed the vague outline of where the ship loomed. No indication remained that it was still there, aside from its draining heat signature.

Korra was left feeling sick and light-headed after the encounter.

-

The emotional condition of the vessel had not changed hours after.

The officers that had boldly stood on their feet working beyond a twenty-four hour period of searching and data collection were finally allowed reprieve of their weary minds.

Cheap coffee, the last few boxes of luxury, was being offered a few levels down. A new shipment of supplies was supposed to arrive with the extraction of the other soldiers.

What thick-glassed eyes, open to the depths beyond their little hold of light and life amongst nothing that there were, were soon shut. Metal trimmed against heavy-duty windows, signaling a lock down for the falsified night.

Some eyes refused to close.

Such as the ones currently scrutinizing every viable inch of the Spartan that stood without much energy or liveliness that had firstly been presented upon their meeting.

Her eyes weren't as void and inky dull as they initially seemed beneath the dim lights of a vessel on reserved power. They were a flourishing and youthful dark green. How Korra had ever mistaken such a lovely feature, as observant and sensitive to details as her augmentation had caused her to be, was beyond her.

But she got a fair look at them, for all of the instances that Kuvira, oddly predatory in her study, had circled back in front of her.

"You should cut your hair. You _need_ to cut your hair." Kuvira finally said, stopping before her with an excellent posture and cocking her head at a slight angle.

Military born and raised.

Korra, along with a dismal sickness that lasted since the unconventional encounter of the foreign vessel, felt slightly self-conscious over the gesture.

Why she did was not entirely apparent to herself. She had been scrutinized, studied, and judged since her forced adoption into the program, years ago.

She willed herself more presently than anything to be allowed to slink into her given room, like Mako and Bolin had been allowed to do after they easily passed whatever inspection Kuvira was obligated to perform.

With fears and apprehensions of the established twenty-four hour period of a so-called "day" dissipating, weariness was left to claim throne.

When Korra allowed herself a measure of comfort in debating the bed that awaited her, not managing a reply to the statement in the process, Kuvira offered more relaying opinion.

"You're short for a Spartan. Your hair – as long as it is – also looks relatively healthy. How long ago was your augmentation?"

Korra wrinkled her nose slightly. "Am I even allowed to tell you that? I can't – I mean, a specific time that it was _all_ done?"

"Are you _still adjusting_?" The elder woman's easy tone gained an edge, and Korra did her best to refrain from anything similar to an eye roll, or any other sign of disrespect that her urging personality merited.

The people – doctors and physicians – she spent her augmentation with were adjusted to her personality. She functioned relatively well with them, if one ignored Tenzin's often crazed protests over all of the excessively exuberant things she wanted to attempt when the surgical procedures of the augmentation were done.

"Sometimes if I'm not careful, I still smack myself in the face when I'm saluting, because I forget that I can move a lot faster than I used to."

"That's not a very direct answer."

"Shouldn't _you_ cut your hair? Your braid hits your hip. That seems a little bit dangerous and unstandardized."

"My hair is none of your business. _Your_ hair, however, is _my_ business, along with your physical wellness after your augmentation. I would recommend, Spartan-55 –."

"_Korra_."

She noted the slow, heavy rise and the slow, heavy fall of the Lieutenant's chest plate in some liable effort to maintain control.

Korra allowed herself a lopsided smirk, and positioned herself more leniently. So much for upholding respect.

"If you think you're being cute, you're _not_. I don't know how you ever got away with this behaviour in whatever facility you just came from, but let me get something clear with you."

"Kuvira, can I have a word with you for a moment?"

Kuvira started at the alternative tone intruding into the conversation. Throwing a look over her shoulder to show that Suyin gained her attention, she shortly returned to Korra with a more severe one that actually had the Spartan struggling not to cringe or slouch beneath its pressure.

"Yes, _of course_, I'll be right there. You're _dismissed_ for a fifteen hour period of recuperation from your arrival. You will meet me at o'seven hundred on Thursday with the rest of your unit."

With that, Korra was left to her own devices, thankful towards the pristine moment of Suyin's intervention.

Timing could not have been more favourable for her.

After picking herself up from the day, and finally allowing her back to connect with the mattress-like material, her mind was not immediately awarded with sleep.

The Spartan's hazed mind drizzled lazily from opinions about her new given superior; how faintly _endearing_ her dedication was. Endearing being the only word she could draw up that was not entirely misplaced or even awkward to name.

She debated her augmentation, trying to draw up exactly _when_ they had adapted her body into the process, and how long it would take her to be fully comfortable in her own body.

She debated how many lost a chance at life because of the process.

How, despite the fact that seventy of them had been assigned for the _second_ wave of the program (because a first was clearly not enough), twenty eight of them survived, thirty three of them died as a result of the procedure, and nine of them were crippled or disfigured or missing entirely.

She thought about how powerful she felt and how eager to serve she was, in spite of her lacking appreciation for authority.

Humanity was in her hands, and she never felt so prepared to _win_ in her whole life, in spite of the scare hours prior with the first _live_ ship she had ever laid eyes on.

A dismal reckoning, a forewarning of thunder to the coming storm of the war.

And then her mind roamed further beyond into the happenings of her life that were never intended to be roamed upon with a frayed mind. The strained recollection of her family figures, the doctor who introduced her to the program, her boot camp instructor, the friends made and lost and retrieved.

Her purpose and role within the vast struggle of a cosmos opened up to the prying ignorant eyes of Humanity.

When her thoughts became blurs of suspicions and recollections and theories, her mind fuzzed into tiredness at last, and those thoughts narrowed into the commanding touch of the very human Lieutenant who managed to, in succession, haul her back from one direction and into another.

Somehow. Despite contending with the will of a Spartan, whose strength still had many issues to work out.

Korra was not, in fact, attempting to be cute when admitting that she had slapped herself in the face during a hasty salute more than once, where lifting her arm did not demand nearly as much attention from her muscles as it used to.

The reaction by which Kuvira offered was amusing.

Korra, in spite of the pressing weight of her thoughts, found herself smiling slightly. For a reason, akin to the vast majority of the rest of her thoughts that crossed her unfortunate mind, that escaped her.

When her mind dwindled back into the domestic analyzing of her interactions over the course of the day, she was numbed into a blissed slumber to scrap and rise for the next.

-

She woke up to a dark interior.

When the system recognized the alertness and the movement of her eyes, it switched on soft lights that would gradually lighten as she moved about and registered herself back into the waking world.

When Korra tapped at the digital clock, it kindly and vocally informed her that it had been a full twelve hours since she had last been awake.

She sat back down on the cot, rubbed at the side of her jaw, and estimated a three hour time span until she needed to report in.

To where?

Kuvira had not given her precise instructions. But the ship was not as extensive as a city thankfully, and she was sure she could cut in twenty minutes to half an hour of asking around random enlisted soldiers for the whereabouts of the officer.

After Korra spent more of her time lounging around her bed until the "dumb" AI system informed her that she's squandering away more time than recommended after her extensive rest, she pulled on cargo pants and another tank top before power walking her way down a few hallways into the supply room.

It felt good to be mobile with her own time again.

When Bolin walked in on her, she was busy squeezing into a form-fitting polymer body suit armour replicator.

Despite the fact no severe sealed-vacuum environment mission rest on her shoulders, the data pad given to her upon her arrival to the vessel relayed the order that all personnel were to gear up in the form-fitting armour as soon as the opportunity became available to them. It was probably simply for trial reasons.

She felt it go very cold, and then very warm, before it began adapting and conforming to her body temperature.

Technology just kept getting better.

Was _she_ considered technology too?

A large hand clamped down on her shoulder pad, and Korra started to the side, bumping an array of lockers and denting a few in the process. Whoops.

Bolin immediately put his hands back up in an action of surrendering apology on suspecting the off-chance that Korra might return with physical payback. "Woah, I just wanted to see how it felt. I barely checked my email registry ten minutes ago about the things."

Korra, fist wound back slightly to confirm Bolin's suspicions, dropped her risen guard, and began to tug at the material around her thigh, adjusting the polymer where it fit awkwardly.

"Could use adjustments in a few places. But, seriously, it's basically one size fits all. I notice they've also clipped off some of the armour on these issues to make them easier to move in."

"What's the point of even wearing them then?" Bolin holds his up, bushy brows furrowed deeply as he turns it different ways.

"They could be setting us up for an atmosphere clearing later? Maybe they want us to get used to them or test them out more. They can't have us running around in the MJOLNIR Four power armour. That stuff costs a ship and then some."

"I heard they're trying to come out with another upgrade or something." Bolin stifles a yawn, shoving a leg into the wrong side, and then trying again.

At least the lack of armour made the suits easier to put them on themselves without needing several different assistants.

Korra thumbed along the dents in the locker she created. A regular soldier might have had to kick it a few times to get it to dent slightly. She felt like she had just barely knocked against it. Clearly, not material originally designed for Spartan use like the lockers on their base on Reach had been.

It suddenly felt less homely. But home was a very abstract, very trivial consideration that was just as much wistful thinking on her part as it was on Bolin's for desiring a Mark V upgrade in armour.

Perhaps his wistfulness was more realistic.

Rather than offering her opinion, Korra shrugged, and reached for the helmet nearest to her, churning it this way and that before plunking it onto her head.

A circular HUD showed up on the left hand of the screen when it powered on. A small little obstacle for the wide range of sight that she was given. Blue in colour with a cobalt ring around the HUD's circumference, a hairline of light ebbed out from her position on the radar, periodically scanning the area.

When Bolin stood, and began moving around in the bodysuit he managed to get on, a little yellow blip marked his position of movement, clarifying him an ally on the field. Motion detectors and thermal sensors were a go, Korra mused, thinking it to be _thee coolest damn thing_ amongst all things she had yet to be introduced to despite the time she had served.

What was next? Replication of Covenant ship's abilities to meld into their surroundings and become invisible? Integration of that into the suits?

She was salivating a bit too much with that kind of technological thinking.

So she pulled the helmet off, and set it to the side, sated with her trial-run of the helmet they would perhaps, at some point, be utilizing more in the field.

The email attachment specified bodysuits only, or she might have kept it on and played around a little more.

Bolin reached for it after she set it to the side, and began churning it in his hands, as if estimating whether or not he could fit it over his head without failing and embarrassing himself.

Instead of that suspicion, Korra was met with a question he had apparently been considering instead.

"What do you think of Kuvira?"

Korra bit at her thumbnail, before she picked up a foot, set it on the edge of the bench she occupied, and began retying the laces along her boot.

"She seems talented and really know-how for her rank and age. She isn't the in-your-face screaming type. Which is really past bothering us at this point, but still."

"There seems to be something a little off about her though."

"_Off_?" Korra raised an eyebrow at him, more interested then at what he had to say, since the conversation veered away from her own opinion about their acting commander.

"Yeah, just a bit. The way she behaves around the higher-ups, and I noticed when she –."

"Are you almost done in here?"

The whole ship had a serious problem with interruptions.

When Mako poked his head around the corner, Korra faltered her irritable look, and Bolin seemed to understand that conversation was going to come to a halt for that moment in time.

He stood, stretched lengthily, and approached his brother, offering some profound wisdom over how tight the suit was in unnecessary areas.

Mako didn't seem to share the same concerns as his brother, and nudged them aside in favour of the more urgent announcement that the _coffee and tea were almost out_.

Korra accented this with an over-blown scandalized gasp, before contradictorily-calmly walking past the two and informing them about the few hours left before they would need to scour for the Lieutenant.

With Bolin's more legitimately scandalized opinion over the limits on the beverages, the three made a stop in the mess hall, which was surprisingly lacking in the company of Crewmen.

A quick scan relayed that only a group of engineers occupied a corner table, musing over their coffees and complaining about some sort of nuclear repair over a D cell engine block – whatever.

Korra's interest was lost when her hands found the remaining labels on tea and sweeteners that were entirely natural resources from Arcadia. How exotic.

It was a luxury that was not afforded to her on her previous vessel; the twenty plus labels that were at her disposal to choose from, not the lack of tea and coffee entirely.

She hummed in contentment, leaning back against the table to fully appreciate what time she had left before she would be thrown back into the day to day chaotic action.

The dim lights were easy on her eyes, the water for the tea was warm, and the conversation of the friends beside her was a comfort that had been once taken for granted, and missed after far too long.

When the officers, passing glances to the group of Spartans now and then, evacuated the room to retreat to their duties when it became known that, yes, the Spartans _were_ able to hear them and yes, the unkind comments _were_ offensive at a stabbing angle, said Spartans occupied the table.

A deck of cards and some flattened bottle caps being used as some form of makeshift chips had been left behind.

Instead of playing cards, the three spun the makeshift chips back and forth between one another.

It was a nice test of timing and strength control while they idled their focus.

"Lin contacted the service deck. They aren't too far off, but they're still delayed from retrieving the others," Mako started, offering casual bearings at conversation.

An hour down, a couple more to go.

Korra felt like her brain was dribbling out of her ears from the lack of mental stimulation.

Back in her bunker, back _home_, she was given chemistry assortments to work through, even if she sucked at math it was something to _work with_. Something to tackle and show off to her superiors if she came out successful and on top.

What could she tackle and prove here?

There was always a wrestle of playful wits against Kuvira, as brief as it had been the first time. Something told her that trying to press that wasn't going to turn out favourable for her.

Mako was looking at her in the way that gave her the impression that someone had just told him something incredibly disregarding.

She realized she hadn't responded, and gave a sort of a hum for him to continue.

"I thought about requesting to leave with the rest of the company, and work under Lin."

Bolin promptly choked on the coffee he had. Korra missed the chip she was about to easily pass back, and dropped her jaw open.

"Just a thought," he amended quickly. "She usually works in a pretty – well, relatively close system to Suyin. I'm specifically _assigned_ here, so I doubt they would even fulfill the request. They need help over there, and I've worked with Lin before. It's a little bit awkward and tense here too."

"Awkward doesn't justify any part of that." Maybe it did, just a bit, she reasoned.

But they had been reunited for hardly a twenty-four hour period, and she had stepped past her own awkward harbouring in that time period to _enjoy_ the time reunited. Whatever Mako could not seem to get passed, Korra could not figure.

Things seemed just fine to her initially.

"And you wouldn't _just_ be working under Lin, you'd have Raiko to deal with." Bolin had stood up from his seat, and promptly thrown himself into being highly expressive with his arms and hands.

Mako tucked himself to the side in order to avoid being smacked.

When Korra leaned across the table with concentration, he figured he _was_ going to get smacked around regardless.

"It's _just a thought_! We were told they wanted us spread thin, but now they're trying to just separate us into two groups? Except us three? If some of us don't stand up for the betterment in that, there's going to be imbalance. People _need_ Spartans now. It's not just the Insurrectionist rebels we're dealing with here anymore."

"Then let someone else push their luck. You don't always need to be the one who steps up to everything. I don't even think it would work like that. There's too few of us to send off alone at the beckoning call of every damn security ship."

"To be fair, The Republic is a pretty _huge_ and successful vessel. But I guess so is this one." Bolin, beginning to see a bit more reason, had stopped making wild hand gestures, but remained complacent in his standing.

Korra looked like she was going to go after him next.

A soft beep on the datapad at 557's hip was kind enough to let her know that they still had a lengthy amount of time before they would need to actually seek Kuvira out. But trying to avoid a double kill on her hands, she picked it up as a conveniently-timed excuse.

Mako was happy to oblige to the excuse of needing to seek her out before they ended up late.

The chips and cards were condemned to remain on the table, and the three stalked around, pulling aside Crewmen for informal and brief interrogations – Bolin kindly requesting if any of them had seen a Lieutenant Kuvira – while maintaining a tense silence between themselves.

One crew member had a reasonable idea where the Lieutenant had gone. She pointed to the stairwell, and gave such profoundly clear direction that Korra wanted to hug her after all of the lacking success.

But she settled for a salute, because every more primal fiber of her being screamed at her to do so instead. 


	4. Transfer

Down a couple flights and through the door on the left, the trio was greeted with a training room slightly more advanced than the common room another three flights above their descent.

Korra eyed the weights like they were no one else's business.

A brief peek around the room, and the Lieutenant was spotted a few meters away, adorned in a similar black body suit and trying to work herself into a comfortable split position.

The brunette gave her props for that.

Mako saluted, follow in suit by the other two after a moment, and he proceeded to announce their presence.

"Spartans four-four-one, three-four-eight, and five-five-seven, all present and prepped to receive orders."

Kuvira, entirely delved into the private development of her own mind amidst machinery and the solace of a once-empty room, seemed to have missed the three Spartans' entry.

Kuvira, startled by this, whirled her upper half harshly enough to send her braid curling across to the next shoulder. Each bare foot was planted against a parallel beam, holding her up in the spread position that she was then wavering within in an attempt to maintain her compromised pose.

When a vibrant pink became apparent on her skin, it was evident that she had certainly not expected a single one of them to arrive before the absolute designated time period. Or, she forgot about the designated time. The latter seemed less likely.

Korra could not bite down any more of a smile than Bolin could.

She looked more youthful when not adorned with so much bulky armour and surely-straight attention.

"You're early," the Lieutenant finally managed, working to clear any disturbed assets on her expression.

"We know," Mako responded matter-of-factly.

Kuvira let a slight smile – a legitimate looking one at that – quirk the edge of her lip in spite of the lingering pinked embarrassment.

It made Korra uncomfortable in a way that she was incapable of identifying. Spartans were not renowned for an ability in emotional recognition. She would list the ranks of Covenant Jackals ten times over in perfection before she would sit down and mull her feelings, certainly so if they were unfamiliar to her.

She began pulling at the tight material at her thigh again to give her hands something reasonable to do while her eyes excused themselves from the form of the superior who was in the equally graceful process of getting down from the coordinated position.

Kuvira seemed to follow where her eyes subconsciously fell, and confirmed what the Lieutenant believed to be Korra's course of thought.

"You're hitting the weights today. You've been decommissioned for too long here. The doctors on board are concerned that your process has a chance of being inhibited if you don't maintain the work effort. Luckily only a few days out of practice shouldn't do much, if any damage at all."

"I tried the ones in the gym already," Bolin started, plucking one of the cables on a pull machine. "The max weight they have is still too light."

"That's why you're here and not there. This is a higher gee set."

Stretching herself out a bit more, the Lieutenant approached one of the work benches near a series of different dumbbells, gesturing to the seat. "Five-five-seven, sit."

Should she be rolling over too? Of course she would if it were asked of her, she reminded herself. There was a difference between the mere flaw of personality that she maintained and straight defiance or rebellion. Kuvira was still a Lieutenant. Curiosity won over any disrespectful intent, and the brunette plodded over, sitting where instructed.

Kuvira ducked beside her to glance at the various weight settings, before looking the Spartan over with judgmental intensity.

"Pick up the fifty pound bar."

Korra did, and frowned. It was far too light. She balanced it in her hand for a moment and gave it a showy twirl.

"Now try the one hundred. That's going to be your standard in here."

Again, she reached over for the indicated bell, and heaved it up with more of a measure of difficulty, but not so much she was entirely incapable of picking it up with one arm.

That felt proper. She was rewarded with a smile from the Lieutenant that made her only more eager to appeal to order.

"Before you get on those, you'll be going through the series of stretches that are listed on the board over there. After you move through and complete each of these machines, you're going to do some light sparring, and after that you're due a protein meal." Kuvira went through the motions of assigning these tasks as if they were her own basic routine.

Korra set down the weight, and plotted the established course on her mental list of things to accomplish. It was linear enough not to cause any questions to rise to mind, except for one less related.

She mentions it not in the form of a question as she walks towards the mat and plants herself to the side of her other comrades, who are already starting into getting themselves adjusted and limber for the tasks ahead.

"I didn't know you were authorized to train Spartans."

"I didn't know that you were authorized to talk back to a Lieutenant but you've proven that skill multiple times."

Korra's smile faded in exchange for tight lips and a squint.

"I have not been training Spartans for too long now. You're the first little group under my personal charge. The UNSC needs more of your collective group put into action under proper leadership, and I fit their terms amiably. I primarily commandeer regular marines." Kuvira hedged, as if she wanted to say something more but declined herself that leisure. She stood at the front of the room with her arms folded, observing as the three attempt to expand the limitations on their bodysuits and break the material into comfort.

Korra suddenly had an extensive amount of questions, all of which she intended to ask.

When she got around to propping open her mouth to offer an inquiry, Kuvira immediately decided that they had stretched enough, and sorted them out onto various machines with equally clear instruction on how she wanted each one of them to proceed, and at what percentage of three times their weight.

Which the Lieutenant seemed to have also recorded on the board.

Korra then wondered how long ago Kuvira had arrived previous to the three of them in order to be that well prepared. She was oddly torn between admiring that and wanting to build upon the limits established by their superior.

Instead, she busied her wandering mind by attending to the speeded ball bag she was assigned at. A certain hyped frequency made it pull around chaotically. It was incredibly dense and compact, and the cord that kept it attached to the ceiling and floor was thick. She pulled it with her finger, testing the twang of its reverberation, which seemed entirely too slow.

She had not quite gotten used to that yet.

Since the augmentation, everything moved much slower to her, simply because she herself moved so much faster. Every bone in her body still ached, she endured migraines. Sometimes, her eyes would bleed a bit in the mornings.

Those were, supposedly, good signs.

When she popped around on her heels playfully and extended her arm for the first contact, the bag hardly had a proper second to respond before Korra was extending her second punch.

Bolin was working on a pull-up bar at an easy rhythm. Out of the corner of her eye, she marked him at breaching past forty.

Mako busied himself on his back, testing how much weight he could press at a slant with his feet. His legs could make an excellent jack for the light reconnaissance vehicles with mounted anti-aircraft guns, or Warthogs.

They worked each of the machines in rotation, until Kuvira recorded various tables of their progress, and decided that they were due for the light sparring, which Korra proved to be over all proficient in.

The brunette maintained a higher calculated speed and reaction time. While Bolin could stagger her with a hard jab, hitting her in the first place did not come at ease. The Spartans bound in blood had begun to attempt to tag-team her in order to land decent damage that she, more often than not, returned in full.

When their movements began adapting to one another's advantages and distinctive style, Kuvira called them off on break, again to the mess hall. Shipments of protein and enhancements had docked, and she deemed that they had earned it after their immediate show of progress.

The day progressed sluggishly.

Two days of postponing separation, and they finally stood at attention in the eyes of the Captain and other formal officer officials at o' five hundred, just as Kuvira had said in the briefing. The timing of the other vessel was impressive, when considering the appearance of a Covenant vessel alone in the fabric of the system.

The other Spartans were corralled in the hangar beside the Birds. Two Pelican dropships and an Albatross sat ruggedly on the oil-drizzled floor.

Korra tried to mind where she stepped, even if most of the oil was draining through the grates into the level below.

Suyin did not seem entirely pleased with the condition of the floor and whoever created the hazard with the oil. For the time being, she said nothing on it, which Korra suspected to take a lot of resolve out of her.

The event called for the peaceful dismissal of the enlisted, not yelling at other engineers on the deck for the mishap.

Noting the engineers, Korra also recognized the fact that there were more loitering in the room than usual. She suspected that more came in with the shipment of goods and supplies.

They did not look green to their work, but the engineers certainly did not seem experienced with the presence of Spartans. They stood sparse but collective to one side of the room, passing conversation amongst themselves while they stared unabashed at the towering super-soldiers.

Korra wondered if they were seen as heroes or just new, revolutionary equipment on board.

When Lin Bei Fong evacuates herself and a couple Second-Lieutenants from the enormous Albatross vessel, the first thing Korra's eyes catch are the scars that line her jaw.

They help scare the rookies, she recalled Lin saying, when Korra had made a bold remark about it upon her last visit.

For the life of her, she could not recall Lin's rank, but knew that it was damn important, just like her sister.

Bolin looked uncomfortable, and stood a bit straighter, if possible.

Korra experienced the same notion. It was rare for so many commanding officials to be in the same room with one another. If she could possibly stand any straighter, she would be permanently extending her spine another whole inch.

Mako looks internally at war with himself, challenging a stare between the two comrades beside him, and the scarred Bei Fong directly across and a few feet away.

The system they resided in, like any system, was not small or diminutive in relation to proportional travel. It took Lin several weeks of planning and coordinating to get into the same planetary system as the Zaofu. Docking on a planet would have been easier, if they had the clearance to invade civilian space.

"First company loads up on the Albatross, second the first Pelican. Snag your duffels and move." Lin urged, her broad tone catching every glance in the room.

Without much hesitation, the Spartans followed suitably. Suyin claimed it fortunate that they had enough post-atmospheric vehicles to get them all evacuated onto The Republic ship without making two trips. From there, they would be separated appropriately with the Admiral's overseeing. Suyin and the Captain would have clean hands from responsibility of them afterwards.

No parting comments were made, no hands shaken. They moved and loaded up without hassle or the inappropriate wear of time.

Out of the corner of her eye, Korra spotted Spartan-411 stepping out of his position with discretion, approaching the visiting Bei Fong to, true to his word, request transfer.

She observed the corresponding expression. Surprise, disbelief, doubt, the slow revelation of agreement.

"I'm not cleared to offer you a place on the ship," Lin began, after Mako finished explaining his disposition in a hushed tone Korra could not pick up above the tromping of boots of her soon-former comrades as they moved about and loaded.

"That'll leave us an empty spot." Suyin interjected, having more or less overheard. "But there are empty spots as it is. Is anyone from the company being stationed on The Republic?"

"No that I know of. They're all taking transfers from Admiral Roland. The three you have are drifters beneath your charge. This one here finds it more pertinent that Spartans are spread around."

"Trade me a few engineers and he's all yours then."

Korra wasn't wholly sure how to feel about Mako being traded like cargo. She wasn't wholly sure how to feel about him turning his back on them. She wasn't wholly sure why she cared so much over impacting the idea of comrade over duty.

Duty came first, it always had, and Mako was ensuring that his would be fulfilled. She could respect that. Unlike many others however, she valued the bonds she had made.

Perhaps a bit too much. The casualties of war weighed heavy on the shoulders of those who were unfit to bear them. For all of the burden forced upon her shoulders and the countless of miles marched with such burdens, logic would entail that she lessen her burden by sticking her attention where it belonged.

When Bolin caught her eye, distressed in every pressed corner of his expression, she buckled beneath her own encouragement and came to partially resent Mako for the unkempt decision.

Lin was pleased with the confirmation of the transfer. She chatted with her commanding sibling for an amount of time before a third-ranked officer informed her that the vessels were stocked and sealed, enough to get them all back to The Republic to carry on with the transfer.

The greying soldier then excused herself with a curt handshake to both, and meandered over to select what engineers she would formally excuse from duty.

None of the faces of the engineers seemed disappointed for the transfer. Indifferent, in the least. They boarded the Albatross they had come in on to collect what diminutive supplies necessary to them, and then evacuated, taking order on where to stand until the ships were prepared to part from the enormous hangar station.

Mako made a speedy trip out of the room to collect his own supplies, pointedly avoiding any friendly face intent on eyeing him.

Korra wanted to get a hand-full of his hair and haul him to the bridge for her own personal, intensive briefing on the values of being placed in a unit and not leaving by any means of unjustified choice.

But she had been told to stand there dutifully and see the other Spartans off, as many of the remaining Crewmen and service officials were doing as well.

When Mako came back, he had the lacking dignity to simply salute to the brunette and the standby brother, who held his tongue only by perceptive orders.

Suyin approached him to shake hands in bidding him farewell on the trade-without-official-clearance, which made the Spartan excessively uncomfortable. Hand-shaking was not a commodity between soldier and officer. It was informal and estranged, yet Suyin hardly seemed to consider it as such.

When he approached the Albatross for the evacuation, he promoted his back to his former squadmates, listening in as Lin briefed him on conduct.

The coldness by which he left gave Korra reason to maintain a scowl fierce enough to deter Bolin from making comment over the events.

The engineers evacuated the Albatross, and the stationed crew were all excused into the next room for the hangar to be vented, and the ships to leave the station. Korra spared a heavy lingering look to the Albatross as Lin boarded, and began barking orders with a viciousness that seemed to be solely reserved for the inhabitants of the aircraft.

It was a sudden change that left her feeling dramatically betrayed.

Bolin kept dipping his eyes towards the floor as they watched, behind the thick glass of the prep room, as the inner atmosphere was vented.


End file.
